


Kaleidoscope Worlds - Prompt Fills

by RubixaSeraph



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Childhood, Drabbles, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, Other, Pranks, Texting Fun, prompt requests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubixaSeraph/pseuds/RubixaSeraph
Summary: [Tags to be updated per addition]Yep. Another one of those "Prompt request" fills that are too short or too open-ended to be individual fics themselves.I have a table of contents going on for more details.New addition Dec-21-20: A stray monster follows Dante home. Vergil thinks keeping it around might do Dante some good. Dante argues it'll do more good if it doesn't try to bite his fingers off. Nero thinks it's perfect, though he would also like to keep his fingers, too.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 70





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at Blooddrop-Palace

**Table of Contents:**

[Chapter 1: Table of Contents]

* * *

> **2\. Convenient Escape** [Vergil x Bartender!Reader]
> 
> Prompt: “Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.”
> 
> General fluff, First Meetings. 

* * *

> **3\. School Play Invitation** [Dante & Patty] 
> 
> Prompt: “Please don’t make me choose.”
> 
> General fluff, found-family, parent-guardian Dante.

* * *

> **4\. Social Road Map - There is None** [Vergil x f!Reader]
> 
> Prompt: "Are we lost or do you know where we are?"
> 
> First Meetings, slight pining, awkwardly and finally getting to know each other more.

* * *

> **5\. Answer Your Damn Phone** [Vergil & Dante]
> 
> Prompt: "You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?"
> 
> Getting acquainted with technology, Dante being difficult, Vergil getting sick of Dante's shit, Vergil and Nero has one okay platform of communication.

* * *

> **6\. A Flicker of Memory Relived** [Vergil & Dante & Nero]
> 
> Dante relives a childhood memory he shared with Vergil, and enacts a prank as revenge based upon said memory. Nero is not impressed. 

* * *

> **7\. New Wallet** [Vergil & Dante & Nero]
> 
> A stray monster follows Dante home. Vergil thinks keeping it around might do Dante some good. Dante argues it'll do more good if it doesn't try to bite his fingers off. Nero thinks it's perfect, though he would also like to keep his fingers, too.


	2. Convenient Escape [Vergil x Bartender!Reader]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some context: Post DMC5, after Dante and Vergil have crawled their way out of hell, and just enough months or something have passed to where everyone isn’t a giant emotional mess, and Vergil is _somewhat_ adjusted.

It was roughly midnight, an hour before last call. Surprisingly, the number of patrons at the bar today was... sparse. So, after a while of neglect, you decided to check your phone. 

There was a collection of unread text messages. From an unknown number. You felt a little baffled as you read through them; the time stamps said that the first message was from 24 minutes ago:

> 23:23 >Nicoletta

> 23:29 >Nicoletta I understand you had given us this number nearly three months ago And I understand this is not the best opening message But I must request you pick me up from devil may cry

> 23:34 >Nicoletta I am in need of an excuse to leave the shop and even if I must endure your driving I would rather hunt down weak demons and pay you back in demon parts than to endure the rest of this night

> 23:38 >Dante has managed to inebriate himself into a terrible mess

> 23:44 >Please get me away from him.

> 23:46 >He has not left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.

> 23:47 >Which I understand may not be a surprising turn of events for everyone else. But I do not need to give Nero a reason to permanently change my status to deceased.

So, someone clearly had the wrong number, because your name was not Nicoletta, and you did not know a Nicoletta. You do, however, know a Dante. And of Devil May Cry. And you know you had left a phone number for Devil May Cry before, hastily written on a napkin, for the purpose of contact regarding a singular incident of being stalked by demons. 

You would never want to repeat that experience again. 

You do give Dante small discounts for drinks when he shows up, almost always with his friends Lady and/or Trish. 

Once, he had brought in a barely-legal-to-drink young man by the name of Nero. Most likely a relative. It was probably one of the more entertaining set of patrons you got to serve throughout the years. 

So, this stranger got the wrong phone number from the shop. You supposed this “Nicoletta” must be someone Dante and Nero both knew. This stranger also seemed to not understand how punctuation worked. Or perhaps they didn’t know how to operate their phone or something, since they apparently discovered punctuation later.

And the only thing you could tell from these messages is that the stranger must be a hunter as well.

You should probably set some things straight, and maybe, being the helpful bartender you were, offer some advice:

> >>Good evening! I’m afraid I’m not Nicoletta, and you have the wrong phone number. 
> 
> >>However, there should be nothing stopping you from leaving your drunk companion to his own devices by leaving for a stroll?
> 
> >>It may be more preferable than enduring this Nicoletta’s driving?

The response didn’t come in until 00:02, and the response was... something...

> 00:02 >My sincerest apologies for having bothered you. I seem to have found the wrong medium by which I thought Nicoletta had written her contact information on. My brother is hardly the most organized person in existence even when he is sober. I will need to put forth more effort to find the correct phone number if I am to escape my brother’s drunken antics tonight. Your concern for my situation is touching, but I’m afraid it’s more of an issue of needing to reassure Dante the next morning that I had not simply left without a trace. Vexing. I will return to searching for Nicoletta’s phone number post haste. Have a good evening. 

Whoa whoa. What? First of all, this stranger is certainly a _character_. You had thought the previous messages were a little stilted and awkward to begin with, but that giant paragraph definitely gave away major awkward energy. You’re fairly certain even your grandparents wouldn’t write like that. 

Second, if you’re reading the context correctly, you have been messaged by... Dante’s sibling? You also never struck Dante as the type of man who would fuss over a companion being gone for a few hours overnight, but Dante had to be the most tight-lipped drinker to ever grace your bar counter. You knew very little about him when compared to your other regulars. 

Well, well. Dante didn’t owe you anything but you had something called curiosity. Besides, maybe you could save someone from their sibling’s drunk episode. 

> >>Dante is your brother?
> 
> >>Well, how rude of him to not introduce us. I’ve met Lady, Trish, and Nero already. 
> 
> >>Tell you what, let me save the day: Dante can live with the idea of you visiting his favorite bartender, no? (And I do say so myself, since why else would he bring his compatriots here?)
> 
> >>Leave him a note. Tell him you’re going to (Y/N)’s bar. You don’t have to drink anything but if you want something, it’s on me today.

Last call might be in less than an hour, but you knew how close Devil May Cry was to your establishment. 

Besides, your business, your rules. you could easily close up shop, grab a few bottles, and have a friendly drink instead of selling/serving. That’s one reason why you said it was your treat. 

A response finally came back:

> >Anything might be more preferable to Dante’s presence right now. I will take you up on that offer, (Y/N).

So you gave him the address and directions. The last message you received back was:

> >Dante insists I bring him with me upon hearing where I was going. That will not come to pass. I will arrive shortly. 

At 00:18, you had already bid good night to the last customer, leaving your establishment empty. At 00:22, you watched someone walk past your windows, to the door of your establishment. The bell jingled as your new customer opened the door to step in, and you felt surprise rise up as you now have a face to associate your stranger with:

Dante’s brother was undeniably related to him, and this solidified a thought in the back of your mind that Nero was indeed a relative, too. But many of this stranger’s features, though similar to Dante’s, were marked by a wary sternness. You can immediately tell just _how_ Dante would be getting under his brother’s skin: Dante was boisterous and free-spirited. This man was anything but. 

“(Y/N).” He nodded politely at you. 

“That’s me. And might I get to know the name of my new customer?” You smiled, more than just your customer service face. 

“...Vergil.”

“Poetic.” You commented. You could recognize a reference to the Divine Comedy when you heard one. “Come. Sit. I don’t bite. So just relax a bit. I won’t doubt that Dante can be exasperating, though I have never seen him drunk before. Should I count my blessings that he did not grace my counters with his inebriated state?”

“Very.”

You reacted with your brand of amusement at how deadpan Vergil was. “Well, anything you’d like to drink? If you haven’t been turned away by the idea of alcohol tonight by your brother.”

“I haven’t partaken often, but anything might be better than the cheap beer Dante has around his shop.” There was a scowl in that tone. The distaste might have run deeper than just for the antics of tonight. 

You worked a job that entails learning all sorts of stories by those who deign to grace you with them. And you will admit, though you are never forceful, you are full of curiosity. 

Maybe Vergil would be willing to complete a picture for you, of the associates of the Devil May Cry. But for that to even remotely be possible, you knew one thing’s for certain:

You’ll need to become _this one’s_ favorite bartender. 

Picking out a staple recipe from the list in your head, you began reaching for the vodka and tomato juice. 

It’s time to work your magic: this wouldn’t be the first ice-cold customer you’ve softened. Besides, they say a good drink can warm your soul. 

“Then how about we start with a Bloody Mary?”


	3. School Play Invitation [Dante & Patty]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Please don’t make me choose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about some Dante and Patty found-family-type fluff? With a dash of Nero. Post DMC4.  
> Just one thing: I don’t think Dante is going to be saying “please” in this situation.

“Dante! Look at this! I spend just few days less here, and you still can’t even clean up after yourself!”

“Awe, Patty-cakes, the place is fine. You just focus on school and your after school activities. I’m taking care of myself just fine.”

“This is NOT fine! How can you think you can live like this? What are you going to do after I graduate school and go to uni? You aren’t expecting me to spend my breaks coming here just to clean, are you?”

There was a lot unspoken here. Patty knew that Dante’s living standards were simply low. They both knew that the cleaning was more for her joy, and it was her excuse to stop by the shop. Patty also knew that Dante _did_ enjoy her company, so long as she remained wise to the times he _actually_ warned her to not do something or not show up. Sometimes, when she received those instructions, she worried. The Legendary Devil Hunter, by her recognition, could still be mortal. (She will never forget the scare she had back then, the image of him impaled by his own sword upon a cross like a sacrifice was burned into her skull.)

However, Ever since he went on some weird mission to the island called Fortuna, she could tell that something had happened. Something _good_. It was subtle, but she could tell. 

It might have something to do with that white-haired older teen she met at his shop, once. (She didn’t dare ask exactly who Nero was. The way Dante interacted with him, she saw how dodgy he was being, but also how hopeful. Dante’s past was always vague to her, but she knew what it felt like to find family again. So she didn’t dare ruin what little bit of peace Dante had in his mysterious discovery.)

All of that aside, she didn’t necessarily come to the shop to clean today. 

“I _am_ focusing on school and stuff. In fact, I wanted to tell you that our drama club will be performing our play next week! And I have a ticket for you, right here!” She slapped the envelope onto his desk. “So you’d better not lose this among your garbage!”

“A school play, huh?” He picked it up, expression somewhat unreadable as he gazed at it. 

“Starring yours truly! I expect you to show up!”

* * *

[Two hours before the play.]

Not all of his jobs came through Morrison. Plenty of Devil May Cry’s business came through the phone or through the door on their own. 

The only good thing about jobs coming through Morrison was that they tend to be legit, and more guaranteed pay. 

Supposing, of course, that he took the job to begin with. 

But here he was, behind his desk, arguing with a woman whose name he couldn’t be bothered to remember: “Look, woman. This is too short-notice. As you can see, I have somewhere to be.”

“But I need this warehouse cleared out. This should have been done days ago, if the other people I’ve hired weren’t so incompetent that they got themselves killed!”

“Not my problem.” Damn, and he took the effort to find _nicer_ clothes for tonight, too. Patty wasn’t going to let him walk into her school in his usual getup, even if he thought he was being very fashionable. 

“I will pay you double what I offered to them!”

The devil within was feeling a fan to the flames of his irritation. His hissed: “ _Don’t make me choose._ ”

“What?” The woman gave him a brief wide-eyed stare, the context of such a phrase, combined with the (ironically truthful) rumors of his inhuman reputation, betrayed her fear of what her mind thought he meant. 

“I said, don’t make me have to choose between money, or _going to my daughter’s high school play_.” Oftentimes, the label was a convenient excuse. He’s used it more than once; but in some truth, it wasn’t just convenience. He would never say it in front of Patty, but he would protect her like it was his duty, to hell and back. 

He gave the woman a very level stare, standing behind his desk, knowing his height and his posture added to the message that _she will lose this challenge_. 

There was a long stretch of silence, before she stammered: “I, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”

“That I have other things booked into my calendar? Look, I’ll throw you one boon. That’s it.” He opened one of the drawers to his desk, rummaged through it for a business card, and slammed the drawer shut in a message of finality before tossing the card at her. “Call my associate, Nero. I make no promises on what his schedule looks like, but he’s got a fancy mobile setup and if you offer him that number you promised me and fork over gas money, you might have a deal. Now scram. I need to lock up.”

He’d rather Nero have the money, anyway. But tonight, he had a performance to watch.

* * *

“You actually made it.” Nina Lowell was pleasantly surprised. “And here I thought I was going to have to sit by an empty seat tonight. 

Nina and Dante had absolutely no relation to each other beyond one’s gratitude towards another, and their interactions were always based off of Patty’s well-being. Neutral, and friendly enough. 

“Wait, you’re not telling me...” He looked down at the ticket stub that told him of his seating number. 

“The front row seats are all reserved for parent-guardians of the students in the play. Naturally, Patty was entitled to two of those tickets to give away, just like the others with a role. And you can’t deny that you are a guardian of hers, can you?”

Huh. Well...

Guess some feelings were mutual.


	4. Social Road Map - There is None [Vergil x f!Reader]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Are we lost or do you know where we are?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some context: idk probably not entirely canon, so insert this where you wish on a timeline. Pretend there’s some “bigger picture” problem going on in the background of this fic that’s keeping our hunters in town for a long time, like how the plot of the anime accumulated into one big thing. Vergil needs a better alias than _Gilver_ for goodness’ sake. I hope my readers like or at least get a laugh out of what I chose for him. (I initially picked it out for a little special something else for another DMC project~)

You first saw him at one of your father’s fancy dinner parties. The entire back room of an expensive restaurant was reserved, and this was one of the nights where you had attended. 

This particular dinner party was simply another celebration of another successful quarter gone by for your father’s company. A blessing, seeing as something odd had been afoot in the city recently. Vandalism, reports of indescribable incidents, and even people getting hurt by what they claim were monsters. 

But this was hardly something quite on your mind as you mingled with the guests. 

Today, however, you noticed that there was someone new among the crowd. You would have remembered if you had met someone like him before: 

In terms of both looks and demeanor, he not only stood out but stood on top. Tall, ethereal, like moonlight dressed in a midnight blue suit. He piqued your curiosity both with his sharp demeanor and with his looks. 

Eventually, you had a heart-stopping chance to to meet this stranger, as your father noticed you lingering close, and beckoned you over with a hearty smile: “(Y/N), (Y/N)! Come, meet Caesar Redgrave. Mr. Redgrave, this is my daughter, (Y/N).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Redgrave.” You didn’t stammer, but your voice came out just a bit meeker than you would have liked. 

“I believe the pleasure is mine, Miss (L/N).” Oh, he didn’t exactly sound the way you expected, but his voice was still lovely in its own way. When he greeted you with an open hand, palm facing up, you recognized that he wasn’t looking for a handshake, but something a little more... old school. 

And you fought a blush as your gingerly placed your hand in his, heart elated that anyone would be so gentlemanly to grace the back of your hand with a light brush of his lips. 

The blood rushing through your ears and the pounding of your heart drowned out whatever else your father was telling you about his new acquaintance. Something about new security detail. 

You didn’t hear much of a word as your head was in cloud nine for the rest of the dinner. 

* * *

The next time you met Mr. Redgrave, it was less than a week later. You were stopping by your father’s company near his usually lunch hour, one of the uncommon moments where you would spend a brief moment of time in a day with him when your mother was otherwise preoccupied. 

Mr. Redgrave, dressed in grey slacks with a lovely cerulean vest over a white shirt, was just finishing a conversation with the front desk. It was the same front desk you were needing to stop by to let them know that you were there, so that they could page your father for you. (You didn’t want to simply barge in, being the well-mannered daughter that you were.) 

He wasn’t the only one at the front desk today. Beside him was another man, in similar clothing but with a red vest instead. They were undoubtedly related, though clearly with significantly different demeanor. The man in red was more lax, and didn’t bother with a tie as he left two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. 

“Ah, Miss (Y/N) (L/N). I hope you are doing well.” Caesar greeted.

“And the same to you, Mr. Redgrave...” You greeted back in kind, but your sentence tapered off as you glanced over to the other man in red, who was clearly related and probably shared the same last name. 

“You may simply call me Caesar. This is my brother, Anthony.” The introduction Caesar gave you was plain and simple. 

Tony smiled at you: “Just Tony’s fine. Didn’t know a fine young lady like you worked here.”

“Tony, use your head. Miss (L/N) is the company president’s daughter. Don’t let yourself get distracted.”

A small part of your heart sunk, knowing now that Caesar already placed that invisible glass plane of “associate via business” between the two of you. It’s a shame. 

But that didn’t stop you from smiling and telling them: “Just (Y/N) is fine. And no, I don’t work here. So even more reason to drop the formalities.” 

“Why, that’s very lovely, but also a shame that we won’t be seeing you around often.”

“ _Tony._ ”

“Right, right. Duty calls.” Tony shrugged and proceeded towards the door. 

Before he left with him, Caesar said to you: “Do stay safe. There have been... incidents of concern, about the city, lately.”

You couldn’t help but hold his concern close to your heart.

* * *

Despite the odd happenings about the city, you paid them no mind, as the following week, your father hosted another soiree. This time, both Caesar and Tony were present. 

It became clear, early on into the gathering, that Tony was more of the social butterfly, whereas Caesar was more content to watch the crowds from the sideline. 

So, at the right opportunity in the night, you casually made your way towards him, stood by him, and smiled while commenting: “Leaving the tiring socialization to your brother?”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “He’s always so easily distracted.” 

To your slight disappointment, he did not look at you as he spoke. 

You fished for something to say that wasn’t too awkward: “Well, I suppose that keeps most of the more obnoxious attention off of you, doesn’t it?”

“...A silver lining, perhaps.”

For a long while, he remained a silent watcher on the sidelines. 

You were content to stand near him, unbothered. 

Eventually, he asked: “Do you not care much for these gatherings?”

“Not as much as others would think. Only when it suits my fancy.”

There was a long pause, before you heard him say: “Pity. I was informed by the company president that there would be quite a few more of these to attend in the near future.”

There was no further conversation between the two of you that night. But you wondered if that was a subtle sign of hope. 

* * *

Some of the incidents in the city were coming and going. There’s been a few reported deaths. 

At one point, Caesar reminded you to stay safe when going about the city. This was said to you in the presence of Tony, who gave you some sort of _look_ that you couldn’t place, before he glanced over at his brother with a sly smile. 

The next time you met the curious man in blue outside of a public gathering, you had managed to snag just a little of his time to go to a cafe. It wasn’t quite something you could call a date, but you secretly hoped it was one. 

You were pleasantly surprised, the next day, when you arrived to spend another lunchtime hour with your father, that the front desk manager informed you that a drink was left there for when you arrived. 

It was the same thing-- your favorite-- that you had ordered the day prior at the cafe.

Suddenly, for the next two months, these little incidents and your little cafe meetings became a common occurrence. 

Each time, you were able to further a little bit more conversation with him, and learn about each other more. You hoped that his rare little questions about yourself were something akin to interest.

So, you attended the next few gatherings your father had planned.

Each time, Caesar was there. Sometimes with Tony, sometimes without.

It was reiterated to you that he and Tony were hired as security, out of the concern of what had been happening around the city lately. That was about as much as you were told. You secretly wondered how he’d look when in action.

One time, when you mused out loud on whether or not you’ll attend the next event, he told you: “It would be a bit disheartening for you to miss out on it.”

The next gathering had a social dance involved. You usually avoided those gatherings, but you went with one hope and one hope only. You were not disappointed that day, when he took the time to ask you for a single dance.

You rather hoped this meant you two were quite close, as he hadn’t asked anyone else that night. At the very least, you could call what you had with him to be a friendship of sorts. 

But there was a little something that seemed... off. Something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. A mystery. You just don’t know what exactly it was, nagging the back of your mind.

* * *

So came the third month, and this party was larger than the previous one. To your (hidden) elation, Caesar was there again. Well dressed as usual, you noticed this time that Tony was not there, even though it would have made sense for him to be present at such a large event.

Eventually, you went outside, far into the gardens, to catch your breath a little. A slight fatigue was getting to you, reminding you that this was why you only enjoyed such “luxuries” sparingly. 

Something nearby shuffled. It startled you. You wondered if perhaps someone at the party was already drunk and bumbling about. Deciding you didn’t want to get caught in a bad mess, you left to make your way back towards the building. From far behind you, you heard something loud: a noise you couldn’t place that sent chills down your spine. 

Should you investigate? Or should you run? 

Suddenly, you were startled when someone was suddenly beside you: “Escaping the crowd for a bit?”

“Oh!”

You didn’t expect him to have followed you, but something in your mind thought that it was very sweet of him. 

“Yes, I... don’t really fancy too many of these gatherings. I get a little too tired from them when they run for so long.” 

“Perhaps I would admit that I’d rather prefer being at home with a book on nights like these. But one has to go where work is...” He mused, and gently guided you down the path you were already taking, back inside but to the side hall of the building where it was away from the bustling main hall.

It was so rare, to have a moment away from crowds and public spaces with other people in it, to just be beside him. So nice, that you shyly admitted: “I understand what you mean. I usually don’t come to the larger parties, but I knew that you would be here tonight...” You blushed. 

You expected him to conversationally sidestep your little admission, but was surprised at how he seemed to smile a little, and told you: “Our usual little outings do always seem so short. It’s a shame we don’t get to see each other more outside of those, or outside of these bothersome gatherings.”

From where the two of you were, in the secluded hallway, where the closed doors led to many of the empty rooms of the building, you could still hear from the main hall, the clinks of glass and the dull hum of people talking through the soft music. 

You weren’t too far from the main event, but you were just far enough, that this would be considered a spot to the two of you, alone. 

You tested the waters a little: “I wouldn’t be lying if I said I wouldn’t mind finding more time to spend with you.” Anticipating his response, hoping that he was interested, you nervously chewed at your lip. 

“Is that so...” 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve seen his gaze grow contemplative. You’d seen it a lot in your conversations, as if he had something to say but decided against it. But this time, he didn’t remain thoughtful for too long: “You would be interested, even after my work here is done?”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant by that, but you were already kind of letting all of your thoughts out: “Of course, Caesar. Not just interested due to curiosity, but it’s been wonderful getting to know you. I really wouldn’t mind finding--”

You were surprised when he placed a finger to your lips to hush you. “No. That’s not... my name is actually--”

It was at that moment, he was interrupted by the tell-tale buzzing of a phone on vibrate. You were a bit disappointed, very curious and somewhat confused about what he was about to say. 

He answered the call, and in the mostly quiet hall, it was hard not to hear what was being said on the other end: “Hey! Vergil, where are you? There’s a small pack of trouble out here, and you’re missing out the fun?”

“By ‘small pack of trouble’, do you mean it’s something you could simply handle without me?”

“I mean, sure, but since when did you simply stand by to let me have all of the spotlight, bro?”

“Dante, answer the question. I’m rather preoccupied within the building right now.”

You suddenly realized something: Caesar and Tony weren’t their actual names. You didn’t know why they would be using different names, but somehow, that made things all the more interesting to you. 

“ _Oh._ What kind of preoccupied are we talking here?”

“Just call me if you’re actually in trouble.” And with that, he hung up.

You felt just a bit breathless at this turn of information. “So...” You started. “Vergil, is it?”

“I hope the use of an alias for all the time we’ve gotten to know each other isn’t... an issue.” He stated. “I am being genuine when I say that... your company was always nice, and I was a little disappointed that I only got to meet you while I’ve been under the cover of work.”

“What _is_ it that you do?” 

“Something related to both security and private investigation.” Vergil responded cryptically. “Though I will admit, I have been a little sidetracked from the job...”

“Is it me? I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t be keeping you from work...” You smoothed out wrinkles in your gown that weren’t actually there, nervously hoping that you didn’t actually have to end this conversation. 

“No, (Y/N). It’s fine. It’s nothing my brother can’t handle. If anything, I hardly think I’ll be required tonight. Besides...” He seemed just a bit sheepish, if that ever were an emotion you could place on him, as he continued softly: “Dante’s often telling me I could use a break and... enjoy something other than research and work...”

So, this was it. An opportunity. The mysteries may have only compounded somewhat, but he was offering you the chance to actually get to know him better. So you smiled and said: “Well, it’s not a bad thing. To go off track a little. Maybe even get a little lost in something different.”

“Well, (Y/N)... tell me, **are we lost , or do you know where we are**?”

He held out a hand towards you. You could decide where to go from here. 

“Let’s see then, shall we?” Was your smiling response. 


	5. Answer Your Damn Phone [Vergil & Dante]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Context: Post DMC5, no real continuity to anything else.  
> (I wish I could edit the margins of block quotes... This is best viewed in mobile format.)

Eventually, getting a smart phone became a necessity. Even if it weren’t for the convenience, then it would be for the fact that people treat you like you’re a little bit crazy if you didn’t have one. 

At first, Vergil and Dante were in a rare agreement that it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Eventually, under Morrison’s, Lady’s, and everyone else’s insistence, (especially Nero’s insistence,) they added “cell phone bill” to the list of bills that... admittingly, were a little easier to pay when Vergil could keep Dante “better motivated” to take on work. (There was also the matter of convenience for being able to make trips home quick with the Yamato, though Vergil will insist every time, in some manner, that he was not a taxi service.)

Now, to say that this was a big leap of technology for the Sons of Sparda would be an understatement. Though they were familiar with the existence of cell phones, neither of them owned one until now, and they have completely skipped past about three stages of the evolution of cell phones. 

Figuring out the functions of the phone, however, was a different task in itself. Vergil hadn’t really had a need to touch anything keyboard based to begin with. While a touch screen was simple, figuring out where everything was on a keyboard took a bit of practice. 

Still, the twins might be dense and stubborn on some things, but they weren’t entirely unable to adapt. At the very least, they understood how to use the messaging and call functions. Anything else, Nico made a big list of functions that, for the most part, the two men found no use for. (Well, for now.)

* * *

Nero actually messaged them frequently. More than Nico. At least, as far as Nico was concerned, she has never messaged Vergil. 

A few days after they managed to sort out the new phone situation, it was decided that the cell phones were more for the function of keeping in touch with family and friends. Business still had to come through the main line. 

And while Vergil was going through some books, he froze when his phone vibrated. 

He was still getting used to having this bothersome little contraption on his person. They fact that it made noise and moved (somewhat) while so close to his body made him skittish. He had considered keeping it out on the table but it became clear that he was then liable to forget it. 

So his only option was to keep it in his inner coat pocket and learn to get used to it. 

Fishing the phone out, he checked it, to find that it was a message from Nero:

> > Hey. How are you holding up?

This was curiously cordial, though Vergil could imagine the awkward hesitance in his son’s demeanor. The anger over past transgressions had only been somewhat diffused, but if there was anything Vergil had learnt recently from Dante and Nero both, it’s that he was in a state of “forgiven but not forgotten.” 

Because the kin of Sparda has had enough bullshit and would rather have something that resembled family, however long it took for them to become one. 

This meant communication was part of it. 

So Vergil responded: 

> Well. <\-----

After a moment of thought, he realized he ought to… say something more. 

> And you? <\-----

Nero’s response was considerably faster than his:

> > Not bad. New phone treating you good?   
> > Maybe I should ask if you’re treating your phone good.   
> > Not broken yet it seems. 

He felt a little insulted. 

> I happen to take good care of my possessions. Unlike my brother. <\-----

> > Right

Vergil found that there were both advantages and disadvantages to this type of communication. Though he himself wasn’t openly expressive, the lack of visual cues from the person he’s speaking to made conversation contain a sort of guessing game. But without being under scrutiny, there was no social disrespect for him putting his attention back in his book while there was a lack of immediate response. 

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed again. 

> > The book you left behind is old isn’t it?  
> > Guess there’s no doubt to your words.   
> > Glad to know you’re doing well with the phone. But can you tell Dante to call me back? Or at least text me back? Been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now. 

So, that was it. He’s playing second messenger because Dante wasn’t responding. 

> When he comes back. I will let him know. <\-----

> > Cool. Thanks.   
> > Hey, let me know if you ever need anything, k?

By context, Vergil figured Nero meant to say “okay.” 

And this was… okay. It was a start. 

> I will keep that in mind. <\-----

* * *

Though when in person, Nero and Vergil sometimes had abrasive encounters, Vergil realized that Nero wasn’t any less argumentative with Dante. Their interactions were simply different. 

But often, Nero messaged him about small things, when they were apart. Such as: 

**Nero**

> > Nico and I are driving by DMC. You guys want anything?

> If it’s food, don’t bring Dante any more pizza. <\-----

> > Okay. What about you? Beer or anything?

> Dante said yes to beer. <\-----

> > Dante always says yes to pizza and beer. I’m asking YOU damnit.  
> > Also tell the old man to text me back himself if he wants anything!

Out of sheer pettiness that day, Nero brought no beer, but a bottle of cheap wine for Vergil. 

He was satisfied with it only because Dante whined over preferential treatment. 

* * *

**Kyrie**

> > Good morning Mr. Vergil!   
> > We were wondering if you and Dante would like to have dinner with us next weekend?  
> > A gathering without impending work, something relaxing for everyone? 

It took a long amount of thinking, and Vergil thought carefully about how he couldn’t keep avoiding it. He wasn’t the most comfortable around Nero’s considerably normal family. Even Dante often made excuses to not go, judging from what Vergil had heard about the number of holiday invitations sent to his brother that never received the response of his presence. 

A part of Vergil thought that this was not only the time to face the music that came with having family, but also felt somewhat comforted by the fact that if he agreed to this, Dante still had to suffer through the social gathering with him. 

> I am grateful for your invitation. What time would you like for us to be there by? <\-----

> > Dinner will be ready by 6, but you are welcome to arrive earlier to help, or spend some time with Nero?  
> > The children are also curious to meet you and Dante.

Ah, the orphans… well, he had already agreed. 

> > Of course, I’m not holding your promise as Dante’s agreement. Please let me know if he will be arriving, also? He hasn’t responded to our messages yesterday. 

* * *

**Nero**

> > Hey uh > I know Dante likes his strawberry sundaes   
> > But what do you like?

> I’m partial to something chocolate. <\-----

> > Huh. I would have thought you’d say something like blueberry. 

> I do not believe blueberry is a common topping on a menu. Chocolate is fine. <\-----

> > Okay.  
> > What if I’m stopping by a special creamery? Still want chocolate?

> Please. <\-----

About half an hour later, Vergil received another message: 

> > I don’t care if Dante’s predictable, but if he wants his sundae, he should at least RESPOND TO MY TEXTS.

On that day, Vergil learnt what a message in all caps was supposed to mean. 

* * *

**Nico**

> > Yooooo V-man  
> > hey is Dante alive?  
> > I found something a-maze-ing this morning!!  
> > he might wanna see this.   
> > but like he’s totally bad about responding so like  
> > tell him I’ll be swinging by in an hour.   
> > you might like this, too.
> 
> This is a little short notice. <\-----

> > Don’t care!   
> > be there soon!  
> > ttyl!

Nico’s messages were a bit harder to understand. For her, Vergil had to learn how to navigate basic search engines. 

* * *

** Lady **

> > Where’s Dante.

> I am not my brother’s keeper. <\-----

> > Right. He’s your keeper.   
> > Where is he. He owes me money.

> I understand that he has owed you money for quite some time now. <\-----  
> Do not come to me about his debts. <\-----  
> I am not responsible for his lack of good finances. <\-----

* * *

It has come to Vergil’s attention that, many times, he was being contacted simply because Dante very rarely responded. 

Nero actually used the phone as a means to carry some semblance of contact with Vergil, but ultimately, even he had come to Vergil for the sake of getting Dante on the phone. (Barring that, Nero would simply call the land line. But by that point, it defeated the purpose of a cell phone, didn’t it?)

Today, while Dante was languidly flipping through another one of his tasteless magazines, Vergil decided he had enough of playing messenger. 

But he had to do the roundabout thing to prove a point to his brother. 

So he opened up the messenger, and found Dante’s message thread. It wasn’t that Dante didn’t use his phone. He’s called a few times. In fact, he seemed to prefer calling over texting. But it was clear that, just like his tendency to leave the shop’s phone unanswered or even unplugged, he was just as terrible about being contacted via cell phone. 

**Dante**

> Dante <\-----

After a few seconds, Vergil heard the soft vibration of the message being received. The phone in question appeared to be within Dante’s desk. 

And his brother ignored it. 

So, a few minutes later, Vergil sent again:

> Dante <\-----

Another vibration. 

It went ignored again. 

> What is the point of having a phone if you don’t answer it you imbecile <\-----

This time, not long after Vergil heard the phone vibrate, he said out loud: “Dante. **You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?** ”

His brother finally lowered his reading material, and said: “What? Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No. Stop ignoring your phone.”

“What is there you need to say that you can’t say yo my face?” The teasing retort on his face was anger-inducing. 

“That’s not the point. It appears most everyone else has issues getting in contact with you, and I’m done playing messenger. Learn to respond to your messages, or I will not be responsible for the next time you miss something important.”

Dante waved his hand as if batting away an annoying moth. “Eh. If it’s important, it’ll get to me.”

“Because I have been making sure you found out. This ends here, Dante. At the very least, promise that you will answer your phone calls, if messaging is too much for you.”

* * *

**Nero**

> > Okay what did you do now   
> > why is Dante messaging me suddenly about sibling abuse. 

> I have done nothing of that sort. Your uncle is simply being over dramatic after a few stabs from a few summoned swords, for not paying proper attention to his phone. <\-----  
> Next time he does not respond, I am no longer responsible for relaying a message. <\-----

> > ...okay  
> > okay you know what sure  
> > no one is dead and maybe this is for the better.  
> > I’m surprised you didn’t go off on him way earlier. 

> I have suggested to him that if it’s his wont to ignore his messages, he ought to at least answer his phone calls. <\-----

> > Gotcha  
> > Blow up his phone with his ringtone not his text tone.  
> > He’d better start answering. 

> There is no need to blow up anything. But I make no promises on Dante’s ability to respond. <\-----

> > hell it’s a figure of speech, dad.  
> > But thanks for trying

* * *

**Dante**

> > Hey  
> > Hey Vergil  
> > Hey

> I’m upstairs. What seems to be the issue? <\-----

> > Holy shit you do respond.

> How did you think the others were able to come to me when you didn’t respond to your phone? <\-----  
> Idiot. <\-----

> > Okay you know what  
> > You win this round  
> > I didn’t think you were getting so comfy with this phone thing

> This wasn’t a competition. <\-----  
> That was meaningless. <\-----

> > Fine forget it  
> > Come downstairs  
> > We have a client.


	6. A Flicker of Memory Relived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante relives a childhood memory with Vergil and enacts a prank upon said old memory. Nero is not impressed.

“Dante! I want to brush my teeth!”

“Can’t you wait?”

“Why does it matter? You’re just in the shower!”

“Whatever!”

At seven years old, though they weren’t too big to fit in the tub together, the twins (mostly Vergil) adamantly wanted their own “independence” from sharing everything and every task. (Though, by the end of the night, despite having separate rooms now, Dante still left his room to crawl into Vergil’s bed.)

But there was a certain amount of self-satisfaction to showing how they were “growing up.” Maybe, just maybe, a little bit of Dante could get why Vergil liked to do things independent of him. 

Just maybe. 

But regardless of that, right now was just the end of the day. Vergil had already taken his shower, and while Dante was getting cleaned up, the older twin took the younger’s “whatever” as permission to enter. 

This was hardly something they were going to fight about. It was just another night. And so Vergil brushed his teeth, said good night (because he was a good big brother and family says “good night” to each other,) and left the bathroom.

Except, out of habit, he reached over and also flicked the lights off before closing the door. 

“HEY!” Dante shouted, and out of pure impulse, he scrambled out, taking the shower curtain with him, almost knocked the door off its hinges, and tackled his brother while completely wet and barely half naked (as he was tangled in said shower curtains.) 

“GET OFF OF ME!”

“VERGE YOU MEANIE!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN IT!”

Needless to say, their parents were exasperated with this outcome, though Dante could have sworn there was a wry smile in the corner of their mother’s lips, and their father abashedly hid his amusement from behind her. (Unsuccessfully, at that, considering dad was too tall to be hiding behind mom at all.)

* * *

This was a memory almost long forgotten, but came to mind today as Dante had a brief moment in the dark. 

It’s like this, you see: it’s been just a few years since the incident in Fortuna, and once in a while, Dante still stops by this wrecked little island city with some stupid excuse of “just passing by” to check up on Nero.

And though Nero would give him attitude, the kid never missed the opportunity to ask if he were staying the night, either. 

Though Dante didn’t say it straight out, he was impressed and proud at how well Nero was holding up. And Kyrie was still by his side, too. Good. Kid needed the stability of someone familiar and caring at his side. Dante couldn’t be more glad that despite every bit of Vergil he could see in the kid, Nero was a fine person who both deserved and needed someone like Kyrie to keep his sights straight. 

Heck, there was recently a new addition to this house. Guess the orphanage wasn’t doing too well, so Nero and Kyrie are fostering one of them. Already, Dante heard about them talking about taking in two more, both to relieve some of the burden from the orphanage, and to hopefully provide some of the kids with a better environment. 

In the shower, Dante was thinking about how these kids would probably end up permanently in Nero’s and Kyrie’s lives, one way or another, just like how Patty wormed her way into his own, when Nero knocked on the door:

“Hey, Kyrie forgot something in here, so I’m coming in to grab it.”

“Yeah, go right ahead.” 

Just a run of the mill kind of situation, right?

And then, turns out, Nero’s got this “turn off the lights when you leave” habit down pat. In the brief moment that it happened, Dante had flashbacks of when he was a kid; that was a startling memory to be reliving at the age he was at, but this time, he wasn’t an impulsive kid anymore. 

And Nero, realizing what he had done, cursed: “Shit, sorry!” And flicked the lights back on. He then immediately deflected: “Can’t leave you in the dark with those old eyes of yours.”

From behind the curtains, Dante couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Betcha I can still see better than you in the dark.” Wasn’t really much of a bet. Nero might be able to see just as good, with their shared demonic heritage. But that wasn’t the point of this exchange wasn’t it?

“Whatever, old man! Don’t take too long in there! Other people need the hot water, too.

And he left, leaving Dante a moment to himself to think: _apples never fall far from the tree, huh?_

* * *

One demonic apple tree later, and a vacation through Hell, life goes on. 

With Vergil back in it. 

So, with the lights and water back on in the Devil May Cry, the twins tried to settle into a routine. 

Difficulties aside, here be a day where Dante is taking a much-needed shower after a job, and there’s a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Dante.”

“If you need something just come in and get it, Verge!”

He didn’t care what it was his brother needed, and Vergil didn’t elaborate. He simply came in, and appeared to have opened the medicine cabinet for something… right, they just bought new toothbrushes yesterday and that’s where Dante said he placed them. 

Honestly, the fact that Vergil grumbled when he first came back from Hell about “getting back into human habits” would have been cute if he didn’t look like he was about the murder a tube of toothpaste. Dante gets the whole “we’re half-devil we don’t get cavities” thing but man there’s such thing as bad breath, and just using mouthwash doesn't cut it. Thankfully, it didn’t take long before Vergil started to ease back into living in more stable circumstances again, and he _was_ still every bit as vain as a Son of Sparda could be. The complaint about “human habits” when it came to personal grooming and hygiene quickly melted away. 

And when Vergil finished brushing his teeth, Dante thought just a little too late to add: “Hey Verge--”

Too late. 

Light’s out. 

“Bro!” This time, he had to actively fight the impulse to throw a bar of soap out before the door closed. Even in darkness, he can damn well aim a bar of soap at his brother’s head!

The door did not close, however. So Dante peeked out from behind the curtains. 

Vergil was clearly in the middle of closing the door, but had turned to look at Dante. 

“Really, Verge?”

Vergil had a neutral expression as he stood in silence. So Dante said: “Of all the damn habits you kept from before things went down, it’s your ‘gotta remember to turn off the lights’ thing?”

Reaching over, Vergil first silently flicked the lights back on, and because he’s _Vergil_ and didn’t like admitting to faults: “It’s not like you can’t see in the dark.” And turned to close the door and left. 

* * *

Now, this is the Sons of Sparda we are talking about. Things will not resolve just that smoothly. 

A few weeks later, the twins plus Nero went on a hunt and came back in relatively high spirits, all things considered. The devil’s blood can’t deny that they all love a good fight, and today’s hunt was a good one, by their standards. 

It did not end entirely the best by Vergil’s standards, however. Out of the three of them, he was the one that ended up getting tossed into the maw of the demon (no thanks to Dante) and had to cut his way out. It wasn’t an entirely dangerous demon; just large and obnoxious and extremely icky, so now he was covered in demon blood and guts even worse than the others. As such, he didn’t give anyone else a say before marching straight to the bathroom to shower. 

Nero was on the phone letting Kyrie know that everything was fine when he heard from the back of the building:

“DANTEEE!!!!” Followed by howling laughter from the supposed troublemaker, and a very loud crash. Apologizing through the phone, Nero hung up and dashed back there.

“What happened?!” 

Except he could guess, judging by the scene in front of him. The bathroom was dark, Dante could still be heard laughing, and the shower water was still running. Nero is fairly certain he can see that the two of them had fallen into the tub, so he flicked the lights on, and…

Yep. Dante should be lucky he didn’t have his coat on, so the shower water was only soaking through his t-shirt and pants. He was laughing, though clearly having been pulled in by Vergl’s tail that usually wasn’t there unless he was triggered. 

Dante had been pulled back and fallen back into the tub, through the curtains, and on top of Vergil who was half-covered by said curtains, wet and irritated. Both of the Sons of Sparda were drenched, and if it weren’t for Vergil’s scowl and Dante’s laughter, with the way their hair was wet and matted to their face, it might have been hard to tell them apart. (Also, Dante ought to shave again.)

But the worst part of this situation was that the tile wall to the bathroom certainly didn’t take to liking having the weight of two fully grown adults toppling into it. That wall was broken now…

And the shower was still running.

“Turn off the water! You want to spread water damage in this building?” Nero immediately shouted. 

Vergil flicked his tail at the water faucet to turn the water off, an action that was almost defiant, and Nero couldn’t help but feel a moment of agitation: “What the HELL happened here?”

Immediately, Vergil and Dante pointed at each other: “He started it!”

“ _Saviour_ help me!” He didn’t give a shit if he was uttering blasphemy no matter how you see it. In this context, there might as well be no better time to curse in his grandfather’s name! “What are you two? _Five?_ My kids know better than the two of you!” Nevermind that when he meant “my kids” he meant the ones he fostered but if anyone tried to argue with him that they weren’t _his_ in some way now, that was a different storm approaching. 

Nero grabbed the nearest towel and threw it at them. “Get out and dry off!” He then reached out towards the nearby closet with his glowing blue Devil Bringer, yanked the door open, and grabbed a few more fresh towels (that he should be surprised that Dante had at all in this office) and tossed more towels at them. 

“Out! OUT! And contain as much of that water damage as possible! I’ll call up someone for repairs. AND IT’S GETTING BILLED IN YOUR NAME, DANTE!”

Was getting back at Vergil worth it?

Dante will tell you: only this once. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My husband sometimes accidentally turns off the bathroom light while I'm still showering. That's it. That's the whole reason why this exists.


	7. New Wallet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stray monster follows Dante home. Vergil thinks keeping it around might do Dante some good. Dante argues it'll do more good if it doesn't try to bite his fingers off. Nero thinks it's perfect, though he would also like to keep his fingers, too.

Dante stared down at it. 

It stared back up at him from his desk. 

"Give me back my change." Dante demanded. 

It squeaked at him. 

"Look, pipsqueak, I have a big sword and I have firepower. You can either cough up my change, or I can blast you to smithereens myself and get it back."

"SQUEAK." It responded defiantly. 

And then the front doors opened. Vergil came back from wherever it was he went to get food, and found Dante in a staring contest with...

A tiny mimic on his desk. 

"Dante, why is there a pest in your office."

"Good question, Verge! Hey, maybe you could tell this mimic to give me back my change! You're the up-and-coming demon-king!"

"You know as well as I do that the title means nothing. Only power commands over the denizens of hell." Vergil responded dryly as he set down two containers of take-out pasta out on the end of the desk. "Besides, a mimic is a monster, not a demon. You just need to kill it to get your stuff back. So, my question is..." He held out the Yamato and clicked the blade out of the sheathe with his thumb, "Why haven't you dealt with it yourself, yet?"

The mimic immediately screeched, hopped off the desk, and into Dante's coat, somehow perfectly wiggling itself into one of his inner coat pockets. 

"Don't move, Dante." Vergil said in all seriousness as he drew his sword in full. 

"Wait, wait wait wait wait wait--" Dante held up both hands. "Don't skewer me just for the mimic!"

"What foolishness." Not wanting to waste any more time on it, he sheathed the Yamato and grabbed his serving of pasta. Before turning to go and eat dinner in peace, he held out his hand to return something to Dante: "And here's the change from what you handed me." 

Dante held out his hand to receive the coins and bills, but before the money could even drop into his palm, the mimic zoomed out of his pocket, flew past the space that was between the twins' hands, ate the change, and disappeared towards the other end of the office. 

"HEY! GET BACK HERE!" Dante leapt over his desk to chase after it.

Opting to ignore his younger brother's problems, Vergil simply took over the desk and chair to eat his food. 

After a while, Dante finally caught the palm-sized mimic, and tried his best to keep it caged in his hands. Though he was still demanding the little bugger to give him his money back, Vergil noticed something:

"You could easily just crush it. Yet you won't. Is your inability to bring an end to anything that is remotely small and hapless making you sentimental for it?"

Having been called out, Dante bit back: "Oh, shut up! As if you don't have a soft spot for cats! It's just a mimic. I just want my stuff back, and then it can go on its merry way to torment someone else. It's been eating my spare change for weeks!"

The mimic indignantly squeaked. 

"So it would seem. Well, Dante, bring it here and let me see it."

Fed up, Dante almost stomped over, and held out both hands still caging the mimic. "If you can get it to just let go of my stuff, then that's that."

"On the contrary..." Vergil picked out a piece of chicken from his pasta, and forced Dante to move his fingers just enough so that he could slip the food through the "cage". 

The mimic gobbled it up. 

"Contrary to what many might think, mimics don't eat treasure for sustenance. They eat flesh and bone, and metals and jewels are left behind because they cannot be digested. The treasure chest mimic, however, is no longer a realistic representation of a true mimic. In fact... that this one is a treasure chest at all, is odd." Vergil explained with a smirk, and the mimic shrank as far back as it could into Dante's palm, scared of the would-be-devil-king's scrutiny. 

"Wait, are you saying this isn't a mimic?" Dante tried to make sense of his brother.

"Oh, it's a mimic. But mimics usually disguise themselves as things that blend in better. And buried treasure or hidden treasure caves are no longer as easily frequented by people. You are more likely to find trash can mimics, who snack on the unfortunate poor and the homeless. Or the occasional stray house pet."

"Okay..." Glancing down at the mimic in his hands, he then asked it: "So why are you a tiny lockbox, and why are you eating my change?"

"It's likely still a hapless fledgling, and monsters can exhibit strange behaviors around devils."

"That doesn't do me any good, and doesn't answer my question, bro."

"Well, I believe you started complaining about your change going missing ever since we finally got your electricity and water bill paid in full, yet on many an occasion where you finally have to buy food and not anything else, money would show up conveniently in your desk or under a couch cushion, despite you swearing you have checked there prior. I could hazard to say that this creature has been taking up residence in your office during the duration we were down in hell, and perhaps survived off or your terrible and stale leftover pizza. Perhaps it now understands that you have absolutely no control over your finances and has decided to step in."

* * *

And so the tables have turned. Now Vergil decided the mimic should stay, and Dante's finances were being controlled by "a lockbox with eyes and sharp teeth."

There had been begging, threatening, and even attempts at tricking the mimic, but one could be surprised at how smart a tiny little box can be. 

Eventually, Dante had to give up. But over time, there was a significant improvement to how finances were being handled, though Dante stewed inwardly about the fact that the improvement would have happened over time, regardless of the mimic, because he hadn't felt this good (and dare he say, this motivated,) since the time the Temen-ni-Gru happened. 

Because the lack of motivation to pay all of his bills on time, plus the unhealthy coping mechanisms, were slowly fading away and staying gone longer, now that he had some semblance of family back. 

As a result, he held less of a grudge against the little mimic. 

And named it Mimi. 

Vergil scoffed when he first heard Dante call it that, but eventually began to unabashedly refer to the mimic as such, also. 

Mimi also went everywhere with Dante. 

And one day, Dante went out for some good uncle-nephew bonding with Nero on a hunt. After everything was said and done, they needed to call Nico, and it was best done through a phone booth. (Nero learnt his lesson about bringing his cell to the job site, after losing two previous ones to collateral damage during a hunt.)

"Hey, Dante. You got spare change on you? Looks like I'm out." Nero asked as he continued to rummage through his pockets, though finding nothing for the time being. 

"Uh... well, that depends on if I'm allowed to hand out any change today." 

"The heck does that mean."

"It means, my dear nephew, that my wallet is on a tight leash." Dante sighed, and reached into his coat pocket to bring out his companion.

Nero stared at the palm-sized treasure chest in Dante's hand. 

Mimi blinked back at Nero, and squeaked. 

"Is that a freaking MIMIC? Right out of some RPG?"

"Yep. It's a mimic. And Mimi has eaten my wallet."

"Dante, you keep a mimic for a _wallet?"_ Nero was rightfully flabbergasted. 

"Do I look like I wanted a wallet that could bite my fingers off? Look, it's a long story, and your pops said Mimi stays. so Mimi stays."

 _"It's named Mimi."_ Nero looked like he was stuck between laughter and bafflement. 

Dante ignored him. 

"Well, Mimi? You'll let us spare some change for Nero to call our ride, so we can get home, right?"

Mimi squeaked, and opened up its box-top. Nero grimaced as he saw rows of sharp teeth. And then Mimi's long mimic-tongue forked out some coins for change, and closed its lid with a satisfying "pop."

"Uh, rad." Nero could only say as he picked up the change. "Oh good it's not slimy or anything. Um, thanks?"

And the guard to the Devil May Cry main branch office treasury simply squeaked back in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to be writing something else for a new chapter but instead I started two new short stories, and then did this, thus finishing no other short stories and finished no chapter work, all because I doodled a cute mimic.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at Blooddrop-Palace


End file.
